The Odds
by District Thirteen
Summary: I am suddenly struck by what I mean to her- what a weakness I am to her, in the Capitol's eyes at least. Surely they would want to manipulate that, manipulate the symbolic rebel who was once so untouchable by taking her only daughter away from her?
1. Chosen

**NOTE: ****i just wanted to establish that this is an au story. the quarter quell DID happen, but DID NOT end the way it did in the book- this is because there was NO rebellion.  
**

_Cammy_

I swing down from the tree as silently as I can manage, weighted down by three rabbits. Looks like the snares have struck it big today. I've never been as good with a bow as my mother, but traps are something I have a talent for.

I glance up, trying to read the time of day by the sun. It's only just rising, but I'll have to start heading home soon. Today's the Reaping, so my parents will be up early. And since they don't like for me to hunt on days like these, they can't know that I was gone in the first place.

Still. I'll swing by the Hawthornes' place on my way back to Victor's Village. At least Gale will appreciate my traps' turnout. He's a close family friend, despite what Dad describes as "a rough past" between them.

I slip under the fence with as much grace as I can manage. I have the long, lean build of my mother, which makes the job easier. I also inherited her dark hair, but my face and my skin tone come from the Mellark side of the family. I'm average enough, I guess. Nothing special about me except the fact that I'm the Victors' daughter.

I've heard Mom whispering to Dad about it before. Saying how these sadistic Hunger Games are rigged, how she's sure I'll be picked this or that year, if only because it would add to the drama- and we all know the Capitol loves drama. But I'm fifteen now, and I think they'd have done it already if they wanted to. The suspense wears off after a while. To be honest, I'm not really afraid anymore. The name of Camellia Mellark has been entered only three times, three among thousands, and I know there's not a chance that I'll be chosen. So there's a cocky spring in my step as I arrive at the Hawthornes' home.

"You shouldn't have been hunting today, Cammy," Gale says when he sees me, but he's grinning. "I knew you did a nice job with those traps," he adds in a conspiratorial whisper, as if he thinks my parents will hear from the other side of the district.

"Thanks," I smile back, handing over the rabbits. I have to dispose of the evidence anyway, and the catch may as well be put to good use.

"Good luck today," he says, looking a little more somber than before. I want to wave it off and tell him I won't need it, but I recall that this is his son's first reaping and think better of it.

"You too," I reply, praying silently for Zephyr. I might think of myself as untouchable, but he's twelve and vulnerable and probably the most important thing Gale or Madge has ever had.

We're both silent for a few seconds, then Gale looks to the sky. "You'd better hurry," he says, breaking the silence. "If you don't make it to Victor's Village soon, Katniss will have a fit." I laugh weakly. Suddenly, for the first time in three years of Reapings, I'm nervous. I've never had anyone else to worry about until now. But Zeph is like a little brother to me, and I can't imagine him having to go off to fight in the strange, twisted place I'd heard stories about from Mom.

"Right. I guess I'll get going. Bye Gale!" I call over my shoulder, and then I'm off and running like the wind. I should know better- how could anyone outrun their fear?

* * *

Mom's mouth is set into a hard line when I reach the Village a few minutes later. On any ordinary day, she wouldn't care that I'd been in the forest; she'd probably have joined me. But she always seems a little more protective, a little more edgy around the Reaping. She considers me her greatest blessing, I know, but until I'm eighteen and safe from the Capitol's sadistic games, I'll also be her greatest fear.

"Camellia Mellark, do you have any ide-" The beginnings of a tirade is cut off by my father's hand on her shoulder.

"Relax, Katniss. What could possibly have happened to her while she was hunting?"

Mom opens her mouth to respond, but closes it again quickly. Having inherited Dad's talent for camouflage, my getting caught isn't exactly a likely scenario. "Fine," she sighs, then her eyes soften. "Just... be careful, okay?" I am struck by what I mean to her- what a weakness I am to her, in the Capitol's eyes at least. Surely they would want to manipulate that, manipulate the rebel leader who was once so untouchable by taking her only daughter away from her?

But Mom can't know that I've realized all of this now. "Okay," I say, and that's the end of the conversation. I head up to my room to get dressed, and neither one of them tries to stop me.

I can't resist a quick twirl in my new Reaping dress. I'm not usually one for something so girlish, but frankly, it's stunning. A deep midnight blue that brings out my eyes, which seem to be a mix of my mother's dark gray ones and my father's light blue. It has gold lining and a matching sash that hugs my slender frame, and the combination of the two colors is the whole night sky laid out for me to wear. I guess Mom picked up a few things from Cinna after all.

I come downstairs and she nods appreciatively, clearly pleased with her work. "You look gorgeous, darling," she says in the high, trilling tones of a Capitol stylist. We laugh together, but a glance at the clock reminds us that the Reaping isn't far away.

Dad joins us, resting a strong, steady hand on my shoulder. "Good luck, Cammy." I can only nod.

We head to the square in silence.

* * *

Effie having moved up in the world, we have a new escort this year. Her name is Azalea, she has a neon green wig, and both her and her hair seem bored to death with the job.

But then the cameras are on and she's happy as a clam, bubbly and simply skipping across the stage. "Hello everyone! Welcome to the 93rd annual Hunger Games! Happy Reaping Day!" She titters, looking thrilled with herself. "I am _so_ excited to be here, in the home district of our most famous victors, Peeta and Katniss Mellark!" I can practically hear the Capitol crowd cheering. "But I won't keep you waiting any longer. Let's pick the first tribute!"

She scurries over to the boys' glass bowl first, but isn't about to admit her mistake and just goes with it. "We'll mix it up a little this year!" She beams at the camera.

I cross my fingers and hope Zeph's name isn't the one she reads off. "Thorn Maelstrom!" A hulking boy from the Seam takes the stage, not even looking scared. I'm sure it's an act though. He's just putting on a brave face and hoping for the best. But then, aren't all of us?

I allow myself a sigh of relief. Zeph's little victory has boosted my confidence again. He, the son of a rebel, didn't get picked. Why should I? What reason do I have to believe this thing is rigged?

"Now we'll pick the girl tribute, hmm?"

And even if it is, that won't matter to me. I am the invincible, the untouchable-

"Camellia Mellark!"

Wait, _what_?

I step up to the stage without registering any reaction. Not the shock, the fear, the turmoil going on inside my head and my heart. I focus on the little things to help stay emotionless. The spiraling patterns on the wood of the stairs. The individual curls of Azalea's wig. I take my place next to Thorn. Suddenly one of the little things I notice is how strong he is. How small my chances of survival are.

I shake hands with my death.

I turn to face the crowd and try to meet each of their gazes in turn, because I know I will never see these faces again.

"Welcome to the 93rd annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

**NOTE: camellia is a kind of flower which symbolizes something (not gonna say what) which **_may or may not_** be important later in the story. it's pronounced ca-may-lee-uh. since it's kind of a mouthful, i think i'm just going to call her cammy for the most part. **

**and no, there is not going to be any romance between thorn and cammy. he's more of a thresh-type character, i guess. **


	2. Mentors

**A/N: k, i just wanted to establish that this is an au story. the quarter quell DID happen, but DID NOT end the way it did in the book. that's because there was NO rebellion.  
**

_Katniss_

I watch them drag her away to her own doom. My daughter. My love. My light in the twisted, terrible world we live in.

My heart is constricting. I'm gasping for air but there's none there- there's nothing left to live off of anymore. This is surreal, it's like a dream. No, a nightmare.

But I'm not going to wake up.

The realization hits hard, and I stumble back as if it were tangible. Then his arms are wrapped around me. Peeta. "It's okay, Katniss. It's going to be okay." He's saying it over and over, but he might as well be speaking another language. I am oblivious to everything except my daughter, and even she will be gone soon.

"We'll talk to her in the Justice Building," Peeta keeps speaking to me in low tones. "We'll be her mentors. We'll make sure she lives. Come on, be strong. For Cammy."

The sound of her name snaps me back to reality. I need to be invincible for her. She was picked because they thought she was my weakness. If I prove them right, what will happen to her?

I've composed myself by the time we reach the Justice Building. I look strong and in control as I sweep past the Peacekeepers. My face is still a mask when one of them bars me from entering. "Why?" My voice is curt and stony.

"Someone else is already in there. You know the rules, Mrs. Mellark. One at a time."

I have to try hard to keep the shock from registering on my face. Who else could have come to visit her? Ignoring the Peacekeeper, I press myself against the door.

The gruff voice inside answers my question, but leads to about a thousand others.

_Haymitch?_

"Listen, sweetheart. You don't need my help now. You'll have your parents in the arena. So what do you want to talk to me for?" His voice is raspy and slurred- he's probably been drinking even more than usual.

"That's just it, Haymitch. I... want you to be my mentor. Not them." I barely process what's just come out of Cammy's mouth. I must have misheard her somehow...

A little gulp from the other side of the door, and I can just picture her, swallowing hard, trying not to cry. "I don't want them to think... they're responsible. If I..."

"Kick the bucket?" Haymitch supplies with a drunken snort of a laugh. I swear I'd slap him if I were in there.

"Yeah. That."

"Okay, sweetness. If that's what you want. I'll help you." I can't believe what I'm hearing. Everything seems to be spinning out of control. How can my daughter be standing here, in the face of her own death, and worry about how we'll feel if we fail? We wouldn't have _allowed_ ourselves to fail!

I stop that train of thought. I see what Cammy means now. If I were in this kind of turmoil while she was in the arena, would I be able to help her? No. I do my best to shut down my emotions completely. It's too late to change her mind now anyway. Isn't it?

"Thanks Haymitch." Her voice is so uncertain. I know she's wondering if she made the right decision by as good as giving up her life to spare us the guilt. And of course she didn't! How could she possibly think-

My thoughts are cut off as Haymitch brushes past, the stink of whiskey strong on his breath. "You're up, love," he smirks, hiccuping slightly.

I sigh and enter the room to see my daughter for the last time.

* * *

"Mom!" Cammy jumps up from where she'd been huddled on the couch. Her eyes are a little red, but I can tell she hasn't cried much. It won't show by the time the cameras are on her.

She's in my arms almost immediately and I stroke her hair soothingly, braiding it into the style in which I used to wear mine.

"Be brave for me," I tell her simply, because suddenly everything I wanted to say has left me, and I know she will be alone in that arena, that she will have to be brave for both of us.

"I'll try," she says, smiling a little. I smile back, but then I remember that I won't be able to help her anymore. Not as a parent, not as a mentor. I need to make sure she knows everything she has to.

"Don't forget what I told you about-"

"The Careers? How to spot forcefields? Which plants are edible? I know, Mom."

I sigh, a little exasperated, but mostly relieved. I had refused to speak about my Games to her when she was younger, but in the days after her twelfth birthday I'd drilled her with everything I knew. She's fifteen now and should know everything she needs to, but it never hurts to make sure....

"I love you," I tell her, because that's really the only thing left to say.

"I love you too, Mom," she whispers, but I can see that she's in danger of crying again, and I can't let that happen when the cameras will be trained on her so soon. I've never realized how young she is. How innocent. Was I this way at fifteen?

"It's okay, Camellia. I know you can do it," I say, and it's the truth. She'll make allies. She'll make traps. She'll make a way to survive. We sit in silence for a while.

"Mom, I asked Haymitch to be my mentor," she tells me out of the blue.

"I know. He'll be good to you. He helped Peeta and I survive."

"Yeah," she says quietly, and despite her tone I think she's feeling a little more confident now.

"Be strong."

"I will."

And that's all we have to say to one another. I want to let her sit with me, let her cry against my shoulder, but I know that both of us will have to be emotionless and untouchable for these Games, or my Camellia Mellark will never come out of them alive.

So I walk away.

* * *

The train is in the station now. Cammy is poised to go. Peeta has the nerve- or the courage- to joke with her. "Just remember to do one thing," he says.

"What's that?"

He staggers towards her drunkenly and shakes a finger, speaking in the rough, husky tones of Haymitch: "Stay alive!"

I listen to the laughter of the people I love most, mingling for the final time.

Then Thorn and Cammy are flanked by Azalea and Haymitch, and the two are swept away to the train, to the arena, to the Hunger Games.

I wait until the cameras are out of sight before I let the tears begin to flow.

**that's it for now! next chapter we'll get to find out about the other tributes! R&R please!**

**Note: the reason Peeta wasn't there during the goodbyes was because it's traditionally supposed to be one person at a time, and since this chapter is from Katniss's POV she wouldn't have seen what Peeta said during his turn. Sorry if that was confusing for anyone!  
**


	3. Capitol

**A/N: k, i just wanted to establish that this is an au story. the quarter quell DID happen, but DID NOT end the way it did in the book. this is because there was NO rebellion.  
**

_Cammy_

I'm numb as I sit in the lush compartment, watching the playbacks of the other Reapings across Panem. I try to remember each one, but only a few stick in my head.

From District One, I don't notice anyone special. They might be Careers, but their easy lives make them less powerful- less desperate- than the others. At least, in my experience watching the Games. And my mother's experience living them.

In District Two, both tributes catch my eye. The girl is Aquillo. Her hair is so blond it's almost white. More importantly, she has what my mother would call an archer's build, with muscular arms and strong features. No doubt dangerous in long range combat.

The second tribute, the boy they called Therion, catches my eye simply because he's not a Career. At least, not in the usual way. His name was picked from the glass bowl, and no one volunteered to take his place. He has a lean, wiry build, though, and looks pretty strong. I can't help noticing the black bruise around one of his dark eyes.

In District Three there's a clever-looking girl called Ava. She doesn't present herself as particularly strong physically, but seems... intelligent, somehow. She reminds me of the girl my mother called Foxface.

Four has the usual brawny types, and no one seems unique. Five through Nine are the just your average tributes, like me. District Ten's boy, Aspen, looks powerful but not stupid like the rest of the muscular fighters. He'll be dangerous. Eleven has no one interesting that I can see.

I write down the names and facts I think I need to know in the journal my father gave me during our last goodbyes. He told me he did the same in the Quarter Quell. Knowing about the competition helped keep them alive. Aquillo, Therion, Ava and Aspen. Even Thorn has place in my book. But the others could prove important too. I remember several Victors from years past whose key strategy was to pretend they weren't anything special. Watching the playback of my own Reaping, I think that'll have to be mine. I look emotionless enough, but small. Scared, too, if they happen to look closely at my eyes.

But is that the right plan? Or should I try to be prove that first impression wrong? How will I earn allies or sponsors if they all think I'm hopeless?

* * *

Haymitch comes into the room, staggering slightly in his drunkenness. He takes in the words of my notebook, the images on the screen, the dark circles under my eyes. "Don't overthink it, sweetheart. Strategy comes later. For now, you eat, and you sleep."

The instructions seem simple enough. I certainly can't go wrong by following them. So I head into the dining car and grab a quick bite to eat. I know I should stuff myself- Mom told me I'd appreciate it later, when I was starving in some unknown territory- but I've lost my appetite. I force down some cheese, then stumble on bread that smells of home. I try to make it last.

I know it won't help to stay up all night worrying, so I head back to my own compartment. I haven't seen Thorn this whole time. I wonder what he's been doing. But I let myself stop wondering now. I need to clear my head.

Stepping into the shower is an amazing experience. Instantly, water flows over me like silk, soft and insubstantial as moonlight. The feeling is wonderful. I used to think it was funny, the way Mom looked back on showers and food as the only good part of the Games, but now I understand. I smile at the thought of her. Maybe we can be back together soon.

I fall asleep hopeful.

* * *

Morning.

Sunlight is streaming into my compartment. I stretch luxuriously and stand up, almost able to fool myself for a moment. Almost able to create an illusion of safety and love.

We must have arrived in the Capitol overnight. The whole city is basking in the soft dawn rays. It seems so peaceful, it's hard to believe something so ruthless could take place here.

Not wanting to confront Haymitch just yet, I press myself up against the window. May as well enjoy the sight.

"Hey! You! Stop!" I stiffen, but then I realize that the voice is coming from outside. A dog scampers into view. I've never seen one before, but I recognize its look from the foxes and, once, a wolf I saw out in the woods. It's a little smaller, and actually pretty cute. I smile.

And then a man in white, the one the voice belonged to, is coming into view. He has the hard expression of all Capitol Peacekeepers, and his close-cropped gray hair adds to the impression of discipline and strictness. "Stop!" He says again, as if the dog can understand him.

I wonder if it came from outside the electric fences somehow, but then I realize that the fences are only to keep the District people in. Does that mean the Capitol doesn't have them at all? Are they free to come and go but _choose_ not to?

Then there's a gun in his hand. The resounding crack of the shot reaches my ears. The bullet reaches its flesh. And then the dog is on the ground, dead.

The Peacekeeper is glancing around now, almost as if to check for witnesses, and I look away. Partly because I don't want him to see me, but partly because this is too painful. Do the people of the Capitol know what lies beyond their safehaven, besides the Districts? Are they even aware of the hardships we face? Do they see that there's an outside at all?

I push those thoughts away, because a more immediate, more painful question has occurred to me. People here have such a distorted view of life, of reality itself, it is even a more possible one.

How much of a difference is there between that dog and me?

**whoa, that came out a little darker than i intended. actually, i had no idea i was gonna put that part with the dog in at all XD sorry! but anyway, next chapter will be katniss and the costumes. R&R please!**


End file.
